


When there's a will

by invaderspotty



Category: V for Vendetta (2005)
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Betrayal, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, angsty au, evey really needs a hug this time, eveys time in prison, lots of yelling, she and v are definitely very unstable people, this is going to be as dark a fic as I can make it, what if scenerio
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29647941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/invaderspotty/pseuds/invaderspotty
Summary: What if AU - during her imprisonment, Evey somehow gets the jump on her torturer just enough to discover that he isn't who she thought he was.
Relationships: Evey Hammond & V, Evey Hammond/V
Comments: 8
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello!
> 
> I know I'm in the middle of writing my long ass V!Lives fic but this idea has been on my brain for days and I HAD to at least write something for it. I adore angst, especially when it comes to uhhh violence and betrayal. Not sure if I will write anything past this chapter, but if you guys want more than lmk! 
> 
> As always, I own nothing, I am simply playing with the characters for fun.
> 
> Enjoy!

Evey Hammond rarely ever had a plan.

Practically everything she’d ever done in her life had been driven by fear or impulse, she had been forced to improvise and seeing her current state it didn’t appear that she had been very successful in improvising thus far.

No, Evey didn’t plan things out.

The floors of her cell, devoid of any warmth, was something she would never get used to. Her body heat would just begin to level out the temperature beneath her to a bearable degree, and then she’d suddenly be dragged back out of her cell. By the time she was thrown back in, the concrete had returned to its unforgiving coldness. 

She was surprised she hadn’t frozen to death honestly. At times she couldn’t feel the tips of her fingers, her throat tight from the chilly air.

Laying there now, curled into a collective fetal position against the wall, she stared ahead of her. There was never anything to see, the walls would never change, but it was better than falling into the dark nothingness behind closed eyes. She had to keep herself focused, and thinking - always thinking - to keep herself from going insane.

Maybe she was already insane.

Her thoughts revolved around the same few things: her parents, her mistakes, and V.

All had played a significant part in her life, and provided so many overwhelming memories. There were good memories too, ones she would surrender her conscience too while she was brutalized by any one of the guards. But not all memories were nice.

The Fingermen had left her alone for quite some time now, more than usual. She’d usually be left alone for several hours at a time, and sometimes almost an entire day. At first it had been agonizing, Evey had been absolutely terrified and constantly on edge wondering when that blocky door would open next, or if they would somehow forget about her and let her rot. But over time she had learned to find relief in these long periods of isolation, it meant a break from the torture, from the torment and the reminder that her life was more or less over.

There was no escaping this place, though she had thought about it. She had run so many scenarios through her head, but none seemed to have a happy ending.

But time caused all things to change, including her. She had never betrayed V, she had never broken. Evey had grown proud of herself for that. But she couldn’t credit herself for this victory, a recently received letter from her neighboring cellmate had inspired her.  
  
Valerie.

Her heart ached for Valerie, someone she would always love unconditionally. Evey craved to see her, to hug her, and find solace in the selfless love that Valerie had given her. 

She pondered over Valerie’s letter often, sometimes wondering if she should try and return her own letter of sorts, to comfort Valerie as well.

But Evey wasn’t given the chance. 

The long familiar shrieks of the cell door opening forced her to attention, her head inclining slightly as a guardsmen stepped inside the doorway - blocking it as always.

“Miss Hammond,” He addressed her smoothly, and Evey swallowed down whatever bile threatened to rise at the softness of his voice. 

They never ordered her to get up anymore, they didn’t ask politely, they never had. 

Just the simple call of her name and she knew what that meant. 

_Get up, go to him, don’t cry, don’t fight, show them you can face the torture._

Her bones moved slowly, partially from exhaustion and lack of nutrients in her body, and partially from her unwillingness to move at his desired pace. Using her arms to help propel her to stand, she saw his feet moving towards her and before she could react a rough hand was tugging at the back of her collar. The fabric gathered like a rope around her neck, forcing a gag as he forced her to stand. 

Lifting herself, she was allowed a single breath before a black bag slipped over her face. Her hands stiffened and reached out, only for one of her wrists to be caught in his grip. His unforgiving, bruising grip.

He directed her forward, moving too quickly for her to keep up - though she tried. This was all familiar to her, though she had no idea where they'd be off to today. The Fingermen here never stuck to a routine, they always shook things up, she imagined it was a sort of game for them.

Maybe they had a spinner, and would flick the arrow to see where it landed.

How would they torment her today? How would they try and _break her_ today?

Focusing on her breathing, Evey couldn’t tell how far they had travelled. It wasn’t until she was plopped down into her stone cold chair that she realized they were planning to simply interrogate her again. 

So, there would be no pain for just a little while longer. They had never harmed her in this chair, apart from the occasional jerk of her scalp or slap to her face. But that was bearable. It was when she proved to be extra stubborn and infuriating that they would carry her off elsewhere, and then the torture would start.

The bag was lifted and as always she kept her eyes closed for a few more peaceful moments, allowing her to identify and adjust to the glaring light in her face. Slowly, she lifted her head to meet that of a shadow.

It was always a shadow, enough so that she was forced to recognize each of her tormentors by voice. She knew all of their voices by now. They were _very_ fond of talking - her not so much.

“You know why you’re here, Miss Hammond and I won’t pleasure you with any more pleasantries.” The other stated almost tiredly, flipping through a binder in front of him. 

_Creedy?_

She recognized his voice, she would always remember his voice because of Gordon. That icy tone, the way it skillfully covered the insane perversion of pleasure he felt from his actions. He had no remorse, he was the means to an end. Evey would claw his eyes out if given half the chance.

_He’s rarely here._

Swallowing thickly, her mouth was sticky from lack of hydration, and her eyes drifted down in silence.

Before her, on the table, two newly installed shackles had been nailed down. Their intentions were clearly made to constrict her wrists against the flat of the table. Her eyes centered on them, a cold chill running through her spine as she tried to imagine what purpose those locks would serve, none of the possibilities brought her a sense of calm.

“You’ve been with us for quite a long time.” He informed her, as if she didn’t already know. “Yet you still haven’t relented, nobody has been able to get the information I desire.” 

Still, she said nothing, letting him speak.

“But I am not as patient a man, and I don’t care for unnecessary liabilities.”  
  
_Yes, you kill all of your “unnecessary liabilities”._

She stiffened as he rose from his seat, the screech of the chair echoing around the small room. As he moved towards her left, it was then that she noticed a table lined against the far wall with an assortment of tools. Her brown eyes couldn’t make them out, but they glinted from the small amount of light in the room, and that alone was enough to terrify her thoughts.

_Be strong, you’re more than your pain._

Sometimes that was hard to believe.

With an arm situated around his backside in thought, she watched Creedy lean over and grasp one of the items, lifting it and turning it before his eyes to observe. Evey watched with fragile panic as he made his way towards her. 

Her eyes darted towards the door, and for a brief moment she had the impulse to run. She could make it, she could push out of that open door and run because her life truly depended on it.

But Creedy, as if sensing her thoughts, was soon on her - grabbing her wrist from her lap and slamming it on the table despite her resistance. Panic bloomed in her chest and Evey’s other hand flew to his wrist, trying to pull it from her own. Meanwhile _his_ other palm came to her scalp, nails digging into the skin as he jerked her head back at a sharp angle. Disoriented, Evey relented involuntarily and the next thing she knew he was locking her one wrist into place. 

Although left with half her freedom, it only increased her panic because she had no ability to free herself. Her hands alone were nothing against iron.

Her panic must have been evident, and she heard a chuckle from Creedy, who situated himself just beside her, half sitting on the table near her wrist and with his hands folded over his thigh. And finally, she was able to identify what he had brought over. 

A spiral cork-screw.

Normally, it was a non-threatening tool given as it was meant to puncture a wine bottle’s cork - not _skin_.

Evey stared at it, biting firmly on her tongue to control her nerves. Her eyes flickered up to his face, hatred radiating from her in waves. 

“I will ask you very simple questions, and you _will_ cooperate. If not, then _I_ will be forced to resort to less desirable methods.” He hissed, there was no questioning his threat. He was not a man to make empty threats, this she knew.

_Fuck you._

Still, her glare didn’t falter and she simply waited.

Perhaps it was her continued silence that angered him, maybe it was her glare, or maybe it was her lack of genuine fight. All the same, Evey’s eyes widened in horror as - instead of asking her questions - he reached over and jabbed the cork screw into the back of her hand.

There was such an uncomfortable crunching sound as the metal pierced her skin, breaking her sense of stability as her gritted cry ripped from her mouth. The sound vibrated off the walls, and her ears were suddenly ringing. Evey’s other hand immediately shot to that of the restricted one, tearing again at the lock in desperation.

Creedy waited patiently for a few moments, releasing his hand from the corkscrew that balanced itself on her hand, still lodged an inch or so deep.

Breathing heavily, she felt involuntary tears well her eyes -- recognizing this as a new form of physical torture. Evey bared her teeth, her head hanging low as she glared back up at him again. So he was one of those types that would get their point across before even starting their interrogation.

She hated those types, they were sadistic simply because they could be. There were no repercussions for their actions here.

Her body was trembling, her nerves racing.

“Where is the terrorist V, Miss Hammond?”  
  
He asked the question so calmly and casually that she wondered if he even realized he had just punctured her hand with a fucking corkscrew. Gasping in between the waves of pain, Evey clutched at her iron wrist. She wanted to scream, she wanted to sit there and cry, but it wouldn’t come.

The throbbing was like fire in her veins, but even then she felt an unnatural sense of will and a sense of calm. The physical pain was absolutely excruciating of course, but it did nothing to weaken her internal resolve. If she gave it all up, if she betrayed V, if she surrendered to them, it would all have been for nothing.

And as Valerie had said, she couldn’t lose the only thing she possessed in this prison. Evey _couldn’t_ give away that last inch.

So the words she had uttered _so many times_ trailed out through her lips once again.

“I don’t know.”

His next trick was turning the screw against her flesh, not digging it deeper but rather tearing the surrounding skin. This charade carried on for a while, he would ask about V, about his plot, about her involvement. She would deny him. In return he’d cause her just a bit more agony. Towards the end of it, Evey had broken into a cold sweat from the exhaustion of pain. Her face was red, tear stains only deepening the bags under her eyes. 

She could tell Creedy _was_ growing frustrated, and that in itself satisfied her to no end. 

“Do you _want_ to die, Evey?”

  
  
Evey.

Why was he using her first name? It felt so wrong, so intimate here in this prison where she had been treated like an object for so long. It enraged her to hear her name drag from his crusty lips, it belonged to her - not to him. He didn’t deserve to take that from her.

“It doesn’t matter what I think.” She pointed out flatly.

He hummed in responsive agreement. Moving off the desk to his feet, he rounded the table. Pausing, as if realizing he’d been silly enough to forget, he turned and reached over to pluck the corkscrew from her throbbing hand like it was nothing.

She dug her forehead into the table, capturing another cry behind gritted teeth as she felt blood well up in the wound and begin to spill over her skin. It was a painfully slow process, warm and unsatisfying.

“Unless you’re willing to cooperate, then I will have no other choice. You will be killed _today_ , if you cannot produce the information I want.” He informed her, feigning some morbid form of guilt. 

Evey blinked, a firm hold kept her in place.

She would die today. 

They would kill her, shoot her, unless she gave up.

A chill spread over her shoulders and in that life defining moment she felt a wave of calm. It was almost nauseating, and borderline painful to adjust to. The idea of her death had scared her for so long, but the idea of dying for what she stood for and what she wanted to keep?  
  
Well that was alright with her. 

A stone sat in her stomach, resolution finally accepted as she looked up at him. Evey tilted her head almost defiantly at Creedy. 

He was very still, regarding her with a deep stare but she still didn’t relent. Her answer was clear.

“I see.” He trailed his fingers along the bloody screw in his hands.

The silence that hung in the air was deafening for several minutes, but it felt so much longer. Evey wondered if he was prolonging the silence in hopes that she would realize she was wrong, that her life wasn’t worth protecting V. 

But she didn’t give in, it wasn’t a matter of betraying V now, it was a matter of betraying herself.

Betraying Valerie.

Creedy moved against the table again, setting the corkscrew back as his hands reached for the lock around her wrist, to release its hold on her.

Evey Hammond didn’t plan things.

She didn’t plan her impulsive and explosive anger.

She didn’t plan on lunging forward at him as soon as her wrist went free.

She didn’t plan the way Creedy’s body rolled off the table and to the ground, dragging her with him as she clawed at him.

_No, Evey Hammond didn’t plan things_.

But maybe just this once - that was okay.

It was clear that Peter Creedy had been taken by surprise, after all, Evey had never shown this kind of rebellion before. She had learned very quickly that physical resistance was met with an even greater punishment.

But what did she have to fear, when there seemed to be no greater punishment than death at this point? Creedy had hung her impending death above her, dangling it on a string. 

To _her_ surprise, the other was remarkably strong, and larger than she had anticipated. Seeing him as a shadow had done nothing to help her size him up, not that she’d ever done that anyways. She’d never planned on fighting anybody.

But at the moment she didn’t think a single soul would believe that with the way she was attacking him.

The other was clearly trying to grab at her wrists, blocking her hits as she practically straddled him on the floor. He threw her off like she weighed nothing, and he lunged forward to grab at her with gloved hands, the destination being her throat.

In a moment of panic she had launched her wounded hand at him, recoiling in pain as the impact against his chest disabled her. He seemed to take this opportunity to restrain her. It was then that she raked her nails at his face with her good hand.

She had never felt a more peculiar sensation, her nails digging into flimsy material and ripping it off alongside her palm. At first she had believed it to be skin, but it was too much. Drawing her hand back to her, brown eyes followed the object as it skittered across the ground.

Her brows furrowed as she tried to understand what had just happened.

In front of her, Creedy had frozen as well, their positioning now releasing some of the shadows from his face.

_Is that...a nose?_

But not a real one.  
  
It was a moment frozen in time as she turned her head to face him, both were within such close proximity of each other that the defining details of the other’s face were clearer now.

The oxygen left her lungs and a dizziness flooded her head as she stared at him, at what the slivers of light revealed on his face.

His skin was distorted, cracked and pulled in every which way. He was red, the fleshy color cracked like veins across his face. Most importantly, he still had a nose.

She’d seen this before, like a pattern on skin. For the first time in a long time, she had no idea how to feel.

She couldn’t feel _anything_.

_Burns. His face is burned._

For a sliver of a second, their eyes met and Evey blinked, wishing she would collapse then and there. She wished for anything that would take her out of this moment, she was unable to understand, unable to address what she was feeling. Her body shut it out, it shut her out, her mind now blank.

He immediately distanced himself, his head down while he violently retreated into the darkness and towards the door. He stumbled to his feet, clearly unnerved. For a moment she worried that he was going to come at her, to wrap his hands around her throat and finish her off for doing such a thing.

She sat there, now clutching at her wounded hand and ignoring the blood that just kept coming. Maybe she was dreaming, or maybe she had read the situation wrong. Oh she _hoped_ she was wrong.

But _maybe_ suddenly seemed _impossible_ , when he cleared his throat and stood against the wall, quiet as a mouse but shaking. Oh he was _shaking_. This had changed everything.

_V..._


	2. Waiting game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alas, I have continued this fic. Not sure how many chapters there will be but I am enjoying getting to write some fr angst between V and Evey, not just emotions being jumbled and petty.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! As always, I do not own these characters I am simply playing with them.

It felt like a standoff, except they were both sitting and neither was entirely sure what to do. Evey sat back, hands supported her on the concrete as she gaped at him, still stunned by the newly discovered information.

For a moment it occurred to her that this may be a huge misunderstanding, that this  _ was  _ V rescuing her. Maybe this had all been an elaborate plot to sneak her out of here. It could now be a plot that she was soiling due to her outburst. 

But that didn’t explain her newly received torture, that didn’t explain V’s current reaction and his obvious state of unease and panic. 

He truly hadn’t expected this.

They held each other’s gazes for a few more desperate moments, although Evey couldn’t quite make out his eyes in the shadows. 

The overwhelming urge to cry, to scream, to attack him again — it barely had time to take flight before she saw V’s hands scrambling along the ground. He was looking for something — anything it seemed. 

Wait...

Using her good hand to try and help lift her, she felt her fight or flight activate. Whatever he was looking for wasn’t anything good. 

“V?” Her voice was laced with fear, curious of his current intentions. She gave him the last benefit of a doubt she could muster.

It all happened so fast she couldn’t register what was happening until she moved closer to him. His head snapped in her direction and as she leaned forward on her hand to stand up she barely caught a glimpse of his hand rearing back in a fist. 

He was—

"Wait-!" 

Evey’s eyes widened for a fraction of a section, her lips parting to protest — to  _ stop him _ before his panicked impulsivity crashed into the side of her head in the form of his fist. The impact swatted her face to the ground, hand slipping out from under her as she crashed. 

She swore she felt her skull crack as she hit the concrete, blackness engulfing her  _ immediately. _

—————

She only remembered her head pounding, it seemed she was always taking blows to her head in particular. A morbid yet humorous thought somehow. Breathing through her nose, Evey tried to slow her thoughts — as if it would somehow help to stop the pain in her head. 

Whatever happened had taken a real toll on her skull, but this didn’t occur to her at first. No she was simply recollecting her consciousness, trying to reinstate all her senses before she produced any thought. 

Swallowing thickly, she sucked in a deep breath through her lips before it came back to her. 

V, the interrogation…

Had he—?

He had knocked her unconscious. With his  _ fucking fist. _

That had to have been what he was searching for, something to hit her with, moments before resorting to smackin’ her across the head with his beastly hand. If she hadn’t known any better she would think he was trying to kill her, with a hit that hard to the side of her head? It was a wonder she was still alive. 

But V always seemed to know what he was doing, he would never have…

But he  _ did.  _

She was alive and breathing but there was no question in her mind that at the very least she had a concussion. The hit to her head combined with the hit to the concrete flooring would’ve guaranteed something that.

V had panicked, because she had seen his face — or part of it— and she had discovered the truth of the matter...At least she thought she did. It was impossible for her to connect the dots, all she knew was that it was V who had interrogated her in that cell. 

If was V who had stabbed through her hand with a corkscrew.

And it was V who had incapacitated her to—

Her thoughts could never finish, one thought leading to the next so aggressively. Panic overtook her and her eyes shot open to see a tan ceiling above her, familiar shelves lined with books could be seen in her peripheral vision. 

She then sensed that she was not, in fact, lying on her back against cold concrete. Evey was not in her cell, but in a bed.  _ Her old bed _ . 

Her eyelids faltered, struggling to open completely and she considered laying there and letting herself sink back into unconsciousness. But she had to figure this out, she had to learn the truth of what had just occurred. 

And then give V what he deserved for doing what he had done...Assuming she could even muster up the strength for such things.

Her elbows moved to help prop her up, each muscle used sending a shockwave of pain to her head again. Gritting her teeth, the act of sitting up in bed suddenly felt like the hardest task in the world. Her good hand was prompt in supporting her, and as her brown eyes carried over to the other she noticed it completely bandaged, her fingers almost immobile in the wrap. 

Finally able to prop herself up, it was then that her gaze drifted across the room and landed on a particularly intimidating Fawkes mask. 

It’s owner sat in the chair situated across from her bed, one hand resting in V’s lap and the other on the arm rest, fingers lifted flat against the side of his mask though not supporting his head. He was clearly in deep thought while observing her. 

Flinching, Evey kicked her heels in an effort to scooch her further away on the mattress. 

“What are you doing here?!” She sounded panicked and frightened. 

“I do believe I’m sitting in your room.” He replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

The cheeky bastard always had a way of making others feel foolish. But despite his response she could tell that he carried a heavy weight in his words, like he had been sitting in that chair for hours... _ stressing _ . 

She couldn’t care less about his  _ stress. _

“How long have you been there?”

“A while.”

They held each other’s gazes for a moment, her stare stern and full of anger. A smarter woman might have held her tongue in fear of the violence her captor had once displayed. But Evey knew V, or she thought she had. This was something else, and she knew she wasn’t going to like whatever it was. Her lips thinned into a line as she let all her feelings come to the forefront. 

“Waiting to give me another smack to the head, are you?” She accused hatefully. 

He stared, and she realized she now despised that mask. It shielded him yet offered her nothing. Maybe one day she’d smack it right off his face. V shook his head and leaned forward in the chair, propping his elbows on his knees. 

“No. That was a blunder on my part, but all the same...it will heal.” 

Did he have no remorse? She had seen this from him before, it had been part of the reason she had betrayed him. Perhaps he regretted his actions, seeing as they were simply a  _ mistake _ , but he didn’t sympathize for her. 

“ _ My bloody hero _ .” She threw back at him. “That was completely unnecessary, you could’ve killed me!” 

“But I didn’t. That was never my intention.” 

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Could he at least pretend to be remorseful? At least in an effort to calm her down?

“I want you to explain to me exactly what happened back in that cell. I want to know how and why you brought me back to the Gallery.” She demanded, jabbing a finger down into the mattress at every point. Her eyelids twitched as she felt another wave of pain shock her head, her palm coming up to cup her forehead in comfort while her face scrunched up.

He slowly rose to stand, and her eyes shot to him. Her nerves had her practically ready to bolt at any given moment should she feel threatened. Instead of coming towards her he only strode towards the door, opening it and exiting into the hallway.

“Wha-- Where are you going?!” She called, watching him walk away purposefully. He wasn’t going to ignore her was he? She’d crawl after him if she had to, he couldn’t ignore this!

She sat there impatiently, each second felt agonizing as she gave him time to come back. Her patience was almost at its end before he suddenly appeared again. Except he now had a glass of water as well as something cupped in his palm. He made it to her bedside in very few steps, and she leaned away from him at first, her frown displaying her clear distaste for any closeness between them. 

He didn’t seem to care, sitting himself at the edge of her bed and extending the cup of water to her. When she didn’t take it he tipped his head at her, almost like the mask was giving her a warning look. Tentatively reaching over with her good hand, she wrapped her fingers around the glass while being careful not to touch his own. 

V then offered the pills in his hand to her, which she did actually take very quickly. 

“These should help to alleviate some of the pain.” He informed her, and she didn’t take her gaze off of him for a second while she popped the pills into her mouth and sipped at the water.

_ No thanks to you... _

Swallowing loudly, Evey gulped down the entire cup — finding herself starved for such things. When was the last time she’d been given such a luxury? Especially without having to  _ earn it.  _ It felt rejuvenating just to be given a single glass. She had been starved in that cell. But she was out now, so what all did that mean? 

Would they come looking for it her? If “they” even existed? Her mind had been desperately trying to wrap its head around her situation but there were so many holes that only V could fill in. Evey could only think about so much at a time, it had to be one thing at a time for now. Otherwise she felt she might go into overdrive and crash. 

Her current residence in her old room didn’t erase the trauma and exhaustion from the cell she had just been in. How long had she even been out? She had to assume not very long, given that V had supposedly been watching over her for a while. Still, Evey was skin and bone, the bags under her eyes dark as ever. She was the epitome of weakness, the hole in her hand and hit to her head only made it worse. 

She was forced to realize that she was in no shape to resist V, or to do anything really. He was her only source of support, but God help her if she let him look after her like she was his patient. 

He had no right to be anywhere near her right now. 

But maybe he would kick her out? The last time she’d really seen him had been at the church, when she’d given him up out of fear. Perhaps he had only come to her aid from some dull sense of duty, but now that he had done the deed -- she was no longer gifted with his kindness. He was waiting for her to leave. Again, she hoped that maybe that had been the case. 

The pit in her stomach told her otherwise.

“Tell me what happened, and why you were there. How long had you been there, playing as one of  _ them _ ?”

She was glaring daggers at him, and even though he gave no physical inclination that he was affected — she knew he could see it on her face. He would be blind not to see her fury, her frustration. What angered her was her inability to see what was going on in his head. 

Looking down, he hung his head, and that was the first time she recognized any hint of shame from him. 

“I think it’s better if I showed you.” He told her, slowly rising to his feet. 

She raised a brow at him, utterly confused and slightly suspicious. What did he mean to “ _ show her”? _ Evey was even more hesitant considering that going anywhere right now meant accepting support from him. She doubted she’d be able to even make it to the door herself without intense pain. And she was confident V’s touch would be anything less of distressing. But her desire for answers suddenly outweighed any stubbornness she felt. 

Reaching her good hand across her body to him, Evey allowed him to grip her arm and underarm with both hands to support her while she swung her legs over the side and rose to her feet. Her limbs were shaky but vigilant in their intent.

The pounding in her head hadn’t quite subsided but she had been tuning it out as best she could. She had been experiencing constant pain and discomfort for so long in that prison that it felt like second nature now. Aches and pains were a constant state for her. 

What a dreadfully morbid realization.

He wrapped his arm underneath her armpit and around the upper half of her back, which forced her to be uncomfortably close to him. Their sides touched each other as he led her through the gallery. Her mind was buzzing with questions, trying to put together what was going on before he actually showed her. Even the old warmth of the lights in the gallery seemed to turn cold, and she felt that the art was watching them -- she felt like they were pitying her...warning her of what was about to come. 

It wasn’t until he reached forward to pull a wooden door open that her brown eyes met that of a concrete hallway. The stone was instantly recognizable — she’d had nothing to stare at except that very color of stone for so long. Her lips drew apart and she stared in awe, sadness washing over her as they stood together in the doorway. 

Her prison. 

She’d been captive here for weeks, maybe even months. 

Her eyes were wide, and she could feel tears forming but she didn’t care. Let them spill. She was far from concealing her emotions now. This was the archway into the hell she had been trapped in, and the cold greeted her like an old friend. Stepping forward, V moved with her too until she nudged herself out of his grip. 

Strangely, he allowed it and she moved forward on her own with burning strength. Her bare feet touched the cold concrete and suddenly it felt very weird to be wearing normal clothing. The thought hadn’t occurred to her until then that she was, in fact, wearing new clothing. 

Pants akin to sweatpants and a t-shirt. It felt wrong, she felt out of place. She was so used to pulling that hideous orange bag farther down so that it covered her bum properly. Not that it mattered, the guards had seen her stripped and bare several times. 

Had that all been V? 

She shivered at the thought, a new layer of shame and disgust penetrating her thoughts. 

Somehow it hurt her more, it  _ humiliated  _ her more to know that it had all been V. 

Evey stumbled through the corridor, one that she rarely got to see due to the black bag strung over her head each time she came and went from her cell. But it all felt hauntingly familiar, and she frowned, feeling her chest tighten at the stress of it all. Memories flooded back to her, ripping at her without mercy.

Finally, she arrived in front of the cell with an open door. She reached forward to pull it towards her, allowing a better view. She knew this cell, as it had been her own. This was her residence, her small haven where she could lay and sleep. They never tortured her in her cell, they always took her out of it to do such things. At least they had allowed her one good thing.

But there was no  _ they,  _ was there?   
  
There was only V.

_ Only V _

Her face crinkled, wrought with despair and she released a loud sob, her legs shaking enough to lack the support needed to hold her up. She crumbled to the ground, her bandaged hand coming up to cover her face while she sobbed harshly. Her chest heaved, working hard to provide her the oxygen she needed.

Faintly, she heard hurried footsteps across the concrete and knew that V had come to her. He knelt beside her, placing a hand on her back while she cried. Evey shouldn’t have allowed the subtle comfort but she did, she felt every part of her body and mind breaking. 

It was too much.

How had she deserved this?

  
  
She didn’t know how long she stayed like that, sobbing and weeping...But before she knew it her exhaustion and malnourishment had coaxed her back to sleep, limping her body in V’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again feel free to leave a comment review/criticism or even any ideas you'd love to see! I love them all :)


	3. Evey Reborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i am BACK with another update to this fic
> 
> I'm trying to plan and see just how much angst i can pack into this fic....we shall see  
> But for now, enjoy what I have tried to put together :) 
> 
> As always, none of these characters belong to me I am just playing with them.

The next few days were blissfully uneventful. Evey, who constantly drifted in and out of sleep, was allowing herself a break from the world. She needed a break from the hurt, and from the stress. V had collected her body off the floor of the false prison and brought her back to her old room.

And there she had stayed.

Her body  _ needed  _ time to recover, having been abused and neglected for so long. She had barely spoken to V, honestly - she had barely even  _ seen  _ V. 

Evey had to assume that he came and went while she was deep asleep, because she would usually wake up to her water refilled, or food on the bedside table. He had never messed with her bandages, the idea of him touching her while she slept was distressing enough. It was peculiar though, that she hadn’t heard him rummaging about. In her cell she hadn’t had the luxury of a peaceful rest, her body had learned to be on guard every second of every day. 

But then she remembered he was a product of stealth, he found no such struggle in moving around undetected.

He had never made such an effort while she rotted in that cell.

Honestly she felt so confused and distraught, even in her dreams, trying to wrap her head around the whole thing. He had made it clear that her entire imprisonment hadn’t been real, it had only been real in her head. V had given himself the role of judge, jury, and executioner when it came to her life.

She recalled all the times he had threatened to kill her, or rape her, or abuse her in any which way. Comparing that to how he spoke to her even now - inside the gallery again - was drastically different. It was hard to associate the two beings as one in the same.

The V she knew was so...different than the guards she had faced in her cell. She almost didn’t believe it at first, but his performance had been stunningly believable. He really was an artist.

V was kind, he was a gentleman, he was  _ crazy  _ but he was also passionate, he knew so many things that Evey could never imagine learning herself.

But he was also dangerous, terrifyingly so. She had only seen him use his skills once, and his strength had frightened her then. It was clear that his strength was not that of an ordinary man, but she had never inquired about it. At the time, she had respected his privacy as he had hers.

She didn’t want to believe what he’d done was true. In her heart, she was desperate to find some other explanation.

But why was she defending him? He was a monster. 

_ He had proved that now. _

So, Evey had buried herself deep in the safety of her bed. Sleep - significantly more peaceful in her old room versus her cell - was what her body needed. On the rare occasion that she did interact with V was when he came to tend to her bandaged hand. At times she would merely glare at him, burning holes into his mask while he calmly rewrapped her hand. He’d had to stitch the hole on the backside of her hand, and based on the little movement she  _ could  _ do, it was obvious that tendons had been broken. 

She couldn’t know if her hand would ever heal completely, and it only fed her swelling anger to know that V  _ must  _ have been aware of that consequence when he drove that corkscrew into her skin. 

Other times, she would berate him with sly comments, ones intended to make him feel guilty...Or maybe even get a rise out of him. He never gave her the satisfaction of a fight.

He could probably sense that she was looking for a good reason to yell at him. 

But her exhaustion also made it hard to ignite any sort of spat with him, especially since he barely spoke himself - and was always tending to her. It was pathetic to accept that he was basically nursing her back to health. She hadn’t yet asked why, because she  _ knew _ she needed the help. So she begrudgingly accepted it.

Laying in bed now, several days after her release, she is still hopelessly confused. Evey had no desire to get up, although she knew she probably should. By now her strength had returned a bit, and she was slowly working back to eating properly. Starvation had taken a brutal toll on her body. And whether it was a good thing or not, she’d been reminded of just how good V’s cooking was. 

Her brown eyes lined the bookshelves, reading the titles in her mind as she went. She laid on her chest, cheek on her pillow and her bandaged hand laying flat on the mattress beside her. She was still exhausted, body and mind alike.

Even though sleep was now less intimidating, that didn’t get rid of the nightmares. She also constantly woke up through the night, afraid to find V in her room. But so far he had displayed no desire to harm her further, or to do anything except take care of her. She didn’t know if she could trust him, but a part of her wouldn’t let her forget all the memories from before.

She wanted to defend him in her mind, she wanted to believe that she was safe now. In the past V had always come to her rescue against any evil doers, but now the roles had flipped. After what he had done it was harder to justify any defense for him. 

And her mind had barely calmed either unless it went into a state of dissociation, which was something her mind had begun to cling to. It was easier to block out the memories and the emotional toll of it all. She wasn’t ready to face it yet.

Staying in her room felt like the smartest option, and apart from going to the bathroom when needed, Evey avoided the rest of the Gallery like the plague. Not only because she didn’t want to risk running into V but also because the Gallery now felt tainted. Although she considered it a separate entity than the prison it was attached to...It didn’t feel like the home it once was. 

Blinking, her body tensed as the familiar knock and opening sound of her door caught her. Rolling over, she was unsurprised to see V’s form slipping into her room. She recognized the balling of his fist whenever he was bringing any kind of pill to her. 

Staring at him, she shifted to sit up in bed while he walked around to her edge. She didn’t tilt her head but her glaring eyes did peer up at him as he extended his gloved hand to her. 

“Painkillers, for your hand.” He told her.

She accepted them without issue, glancing down at the two pills before turning and reaching over towards her glass of water. It had crossed her mind that  _ maybe _ she shouldn’t trust whatever pills he gave her, one day it might not be what he claimed. But this notion had passed after some time. She had expected him to leave after she’d swallowed the pills, he usually never stayed...Probably because he knew his presence wasn’t welcome.

But he made no move to leave even after she gulped the painkillers down.

“How are you feeling?” He asked her this on occasion, and she had ignored the concerned inquiry in his voice. 

“Fine.” 

  
  
He watched her, mask moving just slightly to look at her hand in her lap. 

“And your hand?”   
  


She didn’t move at all, keeping her glare concentrated on him completely. This had constantly been their little dance, him asking about how she was doing, her displaying her disdain at him being anywhere near her, and then him leaving. 

“Well there’s still a hole in it, so not so wonderful.” She returned flatly.

His hands joined together at his waist, and his head hung for a moment in thought before he nodded and turned to leave. He had apparently accepted his defeat yet again, seeing no reason to try and force conversation out of her. 

But with him being here, she knew she had the opportunity to finally get some answers. After days spent recovering, and less desire to be sleeping all day, she knew it would be better to confront him sooner rather than later. And the sooner she got what she wanted, the sooner she could leave him and the rest of this behind.

“V,” 

  
  
He stopped near the doorway, the mask inclining slightly towards her. 

“I need you to tell me what happened.” 

  
  
He knew exactly what she meant, and what answers she wanted.

He had her undivided attention, as he usually did, while he turned and faced her. It was clear from his body language that this was a conversation he had been dreading. But she needed it, and somehow she felt he needed it too.

“What would you like to know?” He asked slowly, giving her open range.

“Was it only you, who did all of that to me?” Evey asked softly, eyebrows furrowing together in despondency. 

He didn’t take long to answer, only confirming her question in the form of a strict nod. 

Nodding to herself, Evey suddenly felt at a loss for words. Even just that one answer stung more than any slap to the face she could’ve received. There was so much to know, but how to ask it?   
  
“Why? What could’ve possibly been the purpose?” 

She’d thought about this. Could it have been revenge for her betrayal? Or maybe a way to test her loyalties? Maybe he was just a sadistic monster who had delighted in seeing her pain.

At this, he gave a deep sigh, apparently having been holding his breath. Her sympathy for him before had been nonexistent, and it felt foolish to have any for him now. But this conversation was hard for them both and she recognized that. She couldn’t escape her pain and by God she wasn’t about to let him escape his.

“You said you wanted to live without fear, I wish there had been an easier way but there wasn’t.” V shook his head.

Her gaze hardened and her lips parted in angry confusion, she understood his words but couldn’t comprehend how that felt like a justifiable explanation. Her fear had been a problem, yes, but he had provided a solution that was too cruel.

“You thought the best way to get rid of my fear was to lock me up and torture me?!” Evey returned, sounding exasperated.

He stepped towards her bed, prompted by her response. 

“Extreme as it was, it was meant to help you. It was meant to  _ show  _ you that you are more powerful than your fear. You’d buried this part of yourself all along, I helped you to see it.” He urged harshly. 

_ Help her. _

Her lip curled and she sat up straighter, almost spiteful as she bristled at him. How dare he, how  _ dare  _ he.

“You’re sick - you’re  _ evil _ ! I thought you were absolutely mad once but now I know it’s true! I’m a human being, not one of your vendettas!” She spat back with renewed strength.

He stormed purposefully to her bedside in one mighty step and for a split second, fear shot through her until it was replaced with more fiery rage.

“Do  _ NOT  _ try to lecture me with your poetic horse shit!”

  
  
“Evey, you  _ could have ended it.  _ At any moment, you could have given them exactly what they wanted! I don’t expect forgiveness but I urge you to understand...You found something you didn’t know you had. You were inching towards your death every day, and you  _ knew  _ that, but you never gave in. Why?”

  
  
She practically bared her teeth at him, blinking at the tears forming in her eyes as she shook her head. Evey didn’t want to hear him, she didn’t want to hear anymore of it! He was weasling his way into her head, convincing her that what he had done was somehow right. It couldn’t be, it  _ couldn’t- _

“Shut up! Leave me alone,  _ I hate you!”  _

He leaned over, gripping the edge of her mattress with harsh hands, but she didn’t relent. She knew intimidation wasn’t his intention right now, it was urgency and purpose. V was practically begging for her to hear him.

“That’s it! See, at first I thought it was hate too..Hate was all I knew, it built my world, imprisoned me, taught me how to eat, how to drink, how to breathe! I thought I’d  _ die  _ with all the hate in my veins…” 

“I don’t care!” She whined pitifully.

  
  
“But you do. I created a lie, but because you believed it you found something true about yourself.”

“ _ No. _ ” She shook her head desperately, refusing him. She should get up, she should  _ run _ , but her body felt rooted to the bed.

“It happened to me, just as it happened to you.” 

It was then that she turned her head away from him, shaking from pressure and frustration, all her pent up emotions again coming to the forefront of her mind. She wallowed in the feeling of betrayal, recalling all the ways he had brought her agony. 

He had  _ tortured her,  _ he had abused her and terrified her. She would carry this trauma forever, yet despite all the hurt -- she had survived it. She had survived it by fighting, by letting go of her fear. V may have betrayed her but in the end she hadn’t betrayed  _ him.  _

“What you felt in that cell has nothing to do with me, you gave yourself the solidity you always wanted...Don’t run from it.” His voice softened, still commanding but far more gentle.

She buried her face in her hands, curling forward over her legs as she tried to stop herself from an all out breakdown.

But it was inevitable, because he was right.

Evey had been reborn in that cell, without Valerie’s letter -- something she didn’t even know existed -- and without fear. 

She was weeping again, her gasps deep and harsh as she sucked in air and gave a violent shake after she released another sob. It was taking over her mind, her body - why couldn’t it stop, please she needed it to  _ stop _

“You’ve been running all your life...But it’s over now.” 

  
  
Her chest was painfully tight, and she recognized the feeling for what it was. Her body’s reaction mixed with her asthma made for a dangerous combination and she felt her body strain with the lack of airflow. 

“I can’t-” 

Another violent gulp of air.

_ “I can’t breathe-!” _

Her head lifted slightly to see him round her bed, coming to her aid yet again. Should she be ashamed at the constant comfort she welcomed from him? She felt traitorous for wanting that, despite everything he’d done, she knew his consolation helped to alleviate her pain. He knew her more intimately than anyone.

Sitting in front of her, his hands took her own, removing them from around her head and gently setting them down. She felt the warm leather around her jaw as he lifted her head softly to face him. 

Even through the Fawkes grin, she was surprised to feel sympathy in his gaze.

_ So he did feel for her... _

He supported her head, almost cradling it as she focused her breath. V offered no words yet, giving her time to calm herself enough to breathe better, to center her mind. Through his touch she could feel him shaking slightly, but from what she didn’t know.

“Oh  _ please…”  _ She pleaded desperately, begging for him to get rid of her pain. Begging him to  _ help her.  _

“Evey, listen to me.” He mused softly. “This may be the most important moment of your life, commit to it. All the pain, all the anger, the loss that you have suffered throughout your entire life -- they took everything they could from you. Everything except your life, except the last pieces of you.”    
  
She leaned into his touch, still crying but able to lift her gaze to meet him. 

“You faced your death, Evey, but you never gave in. You didn’t let your fear control you.”    
  
Another choking sound came from her as she sobbed once more, squeezing her eyes shut and praying for relief. But his words didn’t go unheard, she took it all in. Every truth, every word he had said suddenly felt more painfully raw than anything she had experienced in that cell. Truth was staring her in the face in the form of Guy Fawkes.

“You’re stronger than you knew.”

  
  
Her breathing was returning to normalcy, coming in and out from her lips in deep sequences. Evey looked at him again, eyes still wet as the last of her tears rolled down her cheeks. 

“How long would you have kept me in there?” She croaked. They were both well aware that her outburst had not been expected nor planned for. He knew what she meant, and he couldn’t evade her.

“Not much longer, you were already so close, there was more you needed to see.” He confessed, his voice deep.

_ See? See what...he showed me everything he could have shown me. _

Closing her eyes slowly, she let her head rest in his hands for a moment longer before gently pulling away. 

“I need to get out of this room...I need to breathe, I can’t breathe in here.” She sighed, her head buzzing with dizziness as she leaned forward into his chest. 

“Outside. There’s a lift that will take us to the roof.”   
  
_ The roof? _

She had never even known there was a roof to the Gallery, but right now it sounded like the most glorious thing in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> obviously this chapter was an alternate version of their confrontation after Evey's release/Evey's reborn scene. Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> feel free to comment/review! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Again, feel free to comment/review - it really helps. Also if you wanna see more lmk cus otherwise I'm content with this being a one-shot


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